


we never spoke of endings (but we knew it would)

by Ephemeral_Joy



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Coffee Shops, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Luka's POV, POV Outsider, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 17:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17985296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephemeral_Joy/pseuds/Ephemeral_Joy
Summary: Of all the coffee shops in Paris, he entered the one where his blue-eyed ex and the infamous blond boy were seated.Ironic, since he was just trying to come up with the lyrics for his love song. Or break up song, depends how you look at it.(or: adrienette through the eyes of a heartbroken Luka)





	we never spoke of endings (but we knew it would)

**Author's Note:**

> Title based on a poem: https://thoughtcatalog.com/kaila-trish/2017/10/to-the-one-who-got-away-2/  
> Scenario based on the peice of amazing fanart: http://lydias--stiles.tumblr.com/post/182982879264/nutlas-post-reveal-cafe-date-yinwa-actually
> 
> edited|not beta'ed
> 
> special thanks to my dad for listening to me reading the story even though you had no idea what this was about, because you care and roadtripping is all about bonding. You're a trooper.  
> also great thanks to the incredible wifi this chalet has. this would not have been possible without you.

It was cold when Luka Couffaine stepped of his houseboat into the bustling streets of Paris. Of course, he gritted his teeth, the moment he didn’t wear five layers of clothing the temperature dropped. It must be about 5 degrees celcius. He crossed his arms, tightening the flannel around his body.

After being holed up in the houseboat for hours, trying to muster up lyrics for his newest song he had already found the chords for. It was a love song, or well, a song about love that was lost. Or would he make it more about the break-up itself? He didn’t know, hence why Luka was outside going to a new coffee shop he had heard good things about from Juleka and Rose. It was apparently a mix of coffee and a second hand bookstore, with ambient music and suspiciously attractive employees.

It was called _Amoureux_. Perhaps he was a masochist, but he found it quite fitting for his situation. Or ironic, he hadn't decided yet.

His head bopped slightly as he played the song in his head. Pedestrians surrounding him gave him weird looks, but he didn't care nor was he surprised. He was fourteen when he decided blue hair was his thing. His mum thought it was a phase, but here he was, three years later still rocking it. When he coloured it, it only enticed Juleka (much to their mother’s dismay) to follow suit. The girl currently sported a [ pastel purple lob ](https://mtmackey.files.wordpress.com/2016/08/blunt-lob-with-lavender.jpg). Marinette had always liked it, the blue hair. Said it complimented her raven locks.

 

Marinette.

 

Marinette, the girl with the twinkling laugh and big blue eyes and soft hands with rough edges. The girl led by her emotions. The girl that never intended to hurt anyone, yet did in the end, when she carefully placed his heart back into his chest, not hers anymore. Perhaps it never was.

The relationship had been brief, a simple six months, but it was… wonderful. She was wonderful. It hadn't been his first relationship, but it had been the first where it truly felt like it meant something. Like he was part of something bigger.

Luka huffed. Clearly not the case. 

And he wanted to hate her. But he knew from the start dating Marinette wouldn't be easy. He knew she kept a secret, and she constantly rainchecked on dates. Many other people also had a hold on her heart, wanting her attention. Marinette wasn't a saint or anything, but she just had a way to charm anyone into her life. She just charmed him _too_ much.

So he wanted to hate her. He really did. But here he was, writing a love/lost love/break up song about her.

 

Luka made a face. He wasn't turning into Taylor Swift, was he?

 

 _Amoureux_ appeared as he turned the corner. He grinned: finally, out of the cold! The café seemed fairly small, but cosy nonetheless.

As he opened the door, a bell above him chimed. A suspiciously attractive man at the counter greeted him.

‘Hi,’ Luka replied, adjusting his guitar case. ‘Can I have an uh… double espresso?’ His eyes gazed the glass case in front of him, inspecting the delicacies. ‘And… a cookie? That one.’

‘Good choice,’ the man (he _must_ be a model. It was actually creepy how perfect his face was) complimented. He typed the order into the register. ‘That's 6 euros, please.’

Luka sighed. Of course Juleka would forget to tell him it was an expensive coffee shop. Whatever. He'd raised quite a lot of money with the gigs he's been playing over the past year. It wasn't much, but definitely more than what a student would get paid at a regular job.

A moment later the coffee and cookie was placed in front of him on a plate. He thanked the guy (Milo, his name tag read) and found himself a seat at the back of the café, sinking into a deep, cushiony couch. It was slightly darker in this part of the shop, which gave him more privacy to work on lyrics and perhaps muster inspiration from the other customers. People watching was one of his favourite hobbies.

 

An old man sitting alone in the middle of the shop, drinking a cup of tea whilst reading the newspaper. Three men in business suits bellowing as their glasses kept clattering together, a family with their noses deep into travel guides. A couple teasing-

 

Luka choked on his breath, heart dying in his chest. It felt like the world stopped spinning and all he could hear was his blood pounding in his ears.

 

There she was. At the window. Marinette. Smiling. Laughing. Leaning on her arms towards a boy opposite of hers. The boy had a soft smile on his face, eyes tracing Marinette’s features. In between them was a green tea and a coffee. The boy took her hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing it. Marinette rolled her eyes, but kept her hand where it was. And suddenly Luka knew who the boy was.

It was so obvious. Blond hair, green eyes - it was the boy Marinette had talked about. Her best friend, she had said six months ago when he saw the two of them on her lockscreen. He remembered the moment vividly, as it was the first time he felt a sting of jealousy, of uncertainty. Marinette was allowed to have guy friends, but this one seemed different. She didn't talk fondly about Nathaniel or Nino or Kim. She didn't have multiple Polaroids of them stuck to her wall. She didn't embroider T-shirts for them for their birthdays. Adrien was a special best friend.

Luka had never met him, as he supposedly had a busy schedule. He looked him up once (grave mistake) and the Agreste kid was apparently Europe's most desired teen model and number seven best fencer in his age range. And he was rich.

Luka didn't have low self esteem, but those facts hadn't helped either.

The boy from the Polaroids sat across from Marinette. Luka hated to admit he was attractive and that they looked good together. Compatible. Her in a white turtleneck sweater, him in a black hoodie. They looked meant to be. Like they were _it_ for each other, and suddenly his six month relationship with Marinette felt childish and silly. It had never been never like this.

Luka abruptly stood up from his seat, darting to the bathroom. He couldn't bear to look at them a second longer. The harsh light of the toilets gave him a screeching heachache, as if he suddenly submerged from underwater and could finally breathe again. His fingers gripped a sink, slowly exhaling the tension from his body. He had to calm down. No need for an Akuma.

 

(How embarrassing would that be? “Yeah, I just wrecked the entirety of Paris and potentially killed four people because my ex moved on.” No, Luka was better than that.)

 

He splashed some water onto his face, cooling him down. Luka relaxed his shoulders. He could do this. Just finish the coffee, he told himself, and get out of there. You can eat the cookie along the way.

But then blond hair and green eyes popped into the men's restroom and all those plans evaporated from his mind. He nodded at Luka, smiling, but he was frozen in the spot, wide-eyed. This wasn't supposed to happen. Both parts. Adrien Agreste wasn't supposed to come in. And Luka Couffaine was supposed to be cool and collected and impartial and unaffected and happy for other people's happiness.

Adrien stopped in his tracks, concerned. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked with a clear voice, frowning. It wasn't as low as his own, but not high either. He supposed it was between a tenor and a baritone. It was odd to see him in real life and speaking. When he was in a relationship with Marinette, Adrien didn't seem like a threat because he didn't seem… well, real. But there he stood. In the flesh.

 

‘Uh… Yeah,’ he didn't recognize his own voice.

‘You sure? You look like you've seen a ghost,’ Adrien joked the latter, slowly making his way to a urinal.

‘No, just a weird day for me.’

 

Adrien stopped in his tracks, scrutinising Luka. He felt naked. ‘Have we met before? You look familiar.’

 

‘Uh… No.’

‘Oh,’ Adrien shrugged, turning his back to him to use the urinal. ‘Sorry.’

‘No problem, man.’

 

Luka kept staring in the mirror, freaking out internally. He couldn't _move_. He was in the bathroom with Marinette’s new boyfriend who was probably the love of her life and who she'd spent the rest of her life with. The girl who he was writing a song about. Of all the coffee shops in Paris, he entered the one they were at. Orpheus has placed a curse on him, it must be.

As Adrien washed his hands, still eyeing Luka with a hint of worry, he complimented him with a shaky smile. ‘I like your hair. The blue suits you.’ And with that, Adrien Agreste left the restroom.

Luka followed him ten seconds later, stopping in the threshold to see Marinette and Adrien stand up, putting their coats on. Marinette giggled, pushing Adrien’s green beanie over his eyes. Adrien slung his arms around her neck and blindly, promptly, kissed her on the lips. The girl behind them, submerged in homework, swooned.

Luka felt a strange sense of calm washing over him, a smile pulling at his lips. Marinette looked happier, happier with Adrien, and he couldn't fault her for that. One day, he'd be completely okay. For now, he'd write his lyrics and cope.

Adrien and Marinette let go, the girl giggling as she pulled the beanie up for him to see again. He was grinning as well, anyone in the room could see the adoration in his eyes. The moment almost seemed to intimate for a public setting. Luka averted his stare, and when he looked back up, they were gone, walking down the street hand in hand.

Milo came up to him, sympathetic smile on his face. In his hand was a tissue-enveloped cookie. ‘On the house.’

‘No, thank you,’ Luka declined, smiling, ‘I'll be okay.’

 

*

 

 _Saw you walk inside a bar_  
_He said something to make you laugh_  
_I saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as ours_ _  
Yeah, you look happier, you do_

_Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you_  
_But ain't nobody love you like I do_  
_Promise that I will not take it personal, baby  
If you're moving on with someone new_

                                                                                                                                                    - Happier, Ed Sheeran

**Author's Note:**

> you can scream at me on my tumblr: http://lydias--stiles.tumblr.com/


End file.
